Quotes About Regret

In certi paesi alcuni soldati muoiono due volte.

In some countries, some soldiers die twice

Before i knew the best part of my life had come ,it had gone....

When one is lonely, one does foolish things.

Spending one's final days in an ICU because of terminal illness is for most people a kind of failure. You lie attached to a ventilator, your every organ shutting down, your mind teetering on delirium and permanently beyond realizing that you will never leave this borrowed, fluorescent place. The end comes with no chance for you to have said good-bye or "It's okay" or "I'm sorry" or "I love you.

But for whatever reasons—hubris, inattention, wishful thinking, hesitation, or the uncertainty of the moment—I let the opportunity pass.

Some I am fortunate to still keep up with. Others I was never given the chance to know as well as I wish I could have. All of them have taught me more than any could know.

his own failure to be at her bedside when things got out of control.

Philip Roth put it more bitterly in his novel Everyman: "Old age is not a battle. Old age is a massacre.

Death, on the other hand, is the final silence. And that might be coming quickly, now, without regard for whether I had ever spoken what needed to be said, or had only betrayed myself into small silences, while I planned someday to speak, or waited for someone else's words.

What sort of life have you led that you find yourself, an adult male of late middle age, about to weep among the avocados and citrus fruits in a vast, overlit room next to a bosomy Cuban Grandma with her sparkly, extravagent eyewear? It's good that your parents are no longer alive.

Poor souls. I feel so sorry for them.

Falk kunde som vanligt, och vilket var hans olycka, icke förrän efteråt finna passande svar på tal […]

You should have held me tight. You should have grabbed me and held on.

He living too far in the past.

Turn off the light, she says as she walks away, creating a small woosh that smells sweet and chemical. It makes me sad because it's the smell she makes when she's leaving.

The past doesn't haunt us, we haunt the past.

Most everybody had made at least one bad, drunken decision in their lives. Called an ex at two in the morning. Or perhaps has a little too much to drink on a second date and wept inconsolably while revealing how simply damaged one was, while nonetheless retaining an uncommonly large capacity for love. That kind of thing was, while regrettable, at least comprehensible. But waking up with someone generationally inappropriate, like your grandfather's best buddy?

I sit there and think how it isn't fair that I can't drink at all, even a little. I realize I have crammed an entire lifetime of moderate drinking into a decade of hard-core drinking and that is why. I blew my wad.

I had the same worry that we wouldn't later be able to undo whatever it was we were doing to ourselves.

After I cut off his penis, I sautéed it in rosemary butter and ate it But did you go to a meeting afterwards? Yes I wouldn't worry about it, then.

Well, you know, just some old man all alone. God, I hope I don't end up alone like that. Some pathetic old woman with nobody to go on a whale watch with.

Only by embracing all that you regret and not denying it, only by placing the highest value on what you've gained because of all you've lost, does regret lose the ability to cripple you.

How can you really miss something when you never experienced it?